Page 143 of Dance With A Devil

Onyx:Still looking.

Wells:Got her. Passed out under a tree.

My jaw clenches.

Wyck:Good. Wake her up. Take her to the playroom. Remind her what happens when she disappears without a word. Then Karter… you’re up.

Me:I said I want her last.

Onyx:I’m out. Shit to handle.

Wyck:Fine. After Wells is done, she’s yours.

I break away from the trail and double back toward the estate. My feet move fast, but my mind’s already ahead, spinning wicked little punishments. I shoot Wells a separate message.

Me to Wells:Don’t go easy. Make her feel it. I want her wrecked by the time I get there.

What was she doing sleeping under a tree?

Only two of us had her and she’s already tapped out?

Or maybe… Maybe she’s more fucked up than she’s letting on. Or maybe she just wants us to find her like that. Vulnerable. Begging.

Perfect.

By the time I reach the main house, I’m vibrating with need. I follow the low light down the hallway toward the Devils’ playroom, our sanctuary of shadows, restraints, and forgotten inhibitions.

The second I’m close, I hear her.

“Agh! Wells, stop! That fuckin’ hurts!” she screams.

Good.

Hand on the cold brass knob, I twist and step inside.

The room is soaked in dim red light and the scent of sweat, leather, and wet heat. It smells like home.

Wells, no,Spade, stands over her, belt in hand, eyes cold and controlled. Athens is splayed out on the edge of the bed, legs shaking, cheeks damp with tears. Her ass is flushed crimson, bruises beginning to blossom.

A fucking masterpiece.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Athens.”Crack. The belt slices the air, striking her again. She jerks. Whines.God, she sounds divine.

“Wells, please. I’m sorry…”

“Not sorry enough.” He grabs her hair, yanks her head back, and sneers into her face. “Who did this?” he asks, eyes droppingto the hickey-chain wrapped around her throat like a twisted collar.

Her voice trembles. “Wyck.”

“You like what he did to you?” Spade asks, already undoing his belt, cock hard and eager to replace that belt in her.

“I-I loved it.” Her smile is defiant. Dirty. Glorious.

Spade chuckles, the kind that means pain is coming. “So what should I do to you? How should I mark what’s mine?”

She doesn’t answer fast enough.

He lets go of her hair just long enough to shove his pants down, then drags her legs apart like he owns the hinges of her body.